“These are my private quarters. Please.” Sona offered Radzinski the door.
As Radzinski reached for the doorknob, he looked around, and for the first time since they began their walk, he realized that there was no one shadowing their every move. No heavies, no thugs, no guards enforcing Sona’s will. They were alone, and they had been alone since leaving the business end of Frost. That revelation put him at ease. Inside, her room was clean, bright, and colorful. Purples and reds and blues adorned many pillows and silken sheets, curtains, and drapes. Along one wall was a still-in-progress mural of an ancient Egyptian theme that he assumed was Sona’s own artwork.
Sona ducked behind a shoulder-height privacy screen and began to change out of her cumbersome latex while she bid Radzinski to make himself at home. “Please help yourself to anything in the refrigerator. I have water, beer, wine. There’s food in there, too, if you’re hungry.”
For the first time since Radzinski was forced into Underworld, he let his guard down. He leaned into the open refrigerator, closed his eyes, and let the cool air wash over him.
Sona emerged from behind the privacy screen, wearing a silken robe. “That suit is far too stuffy to wear all day,” she said as she waved the cloth around her chest, blowing cool air over her body. “Amaranth never takes hers off. The woman lives the spectacle twenty-four hours a day.”
“Nothing wrong with a woman who enjoys her work. The blue smile kind of says it all.” Radzinski forced a half, apprehensive grin.
“That it does,” Sona replied while she reached into a small cabinet at her knees. “You must feel disgusting after the Pit and your ordeal downstairs.” She handed him a towel and a robe. “Why don’t you use my shower, wash the day away.”
Radzinski didn’t hesitate to answer. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be out here when you finish. Then we can talk.” She took a book from a crowded shelf before taking a seat on a long sofa. “Take as long as you need,” she said as she began turning through the pages. She didn’t give Radzinski another look.
Radzinski leaned against the shower wall, letting the hot water envelop him. Sona was right—he could already feel the filth washing away. He stayed beneath the water and steam long enough that he fully expected to be yanked out of there by yet another group of hired thugs. When that never happened, Radzinski allowed himself to properly relax.
Time almost seemed to fade away, but the predicament he found himself in was a constant nagging. He was well and truly in the shit this time through no fault of his own. Or maybe it was his fault. Had he taken Cortez up on his offer, he certainly wouldn’t be down here. Radzinski put those thoughts out of his mind as quickly as they rose. He was never one to dwell on could-haves and should-haves. If a thing needed doing, he did it. No amount of second-guessing would change a damn thing.
He had been in this stranger’s bathroom for some time and thought better of making his host come looking for him. He toweled off, slipped on the clean bathrobe, and returned to the living room, where he joined Sona on the sofa.
“Feeling better?” She put her book aside and removed her reading glasses.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. Thank you again.”
“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here.”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“I thought it prudent to introduce myself before Setsuko got her claws too deep in you.”
“Well, if you can get me away from that psycho, I’d be in your debt.”
“I’m afraid that once Lady Setsuko has her mind set on someone, it’s beyond even my influence to release her hold on them.”
“Lovely. So then what am I doing here?”
“To put it bluntly, I’ve never been able to successfully infiltrate her ranks. Perhaps you could be my man on the inside.”
“And why would I agree to do that?”
“Because I get the sense that underneath this rugged exterior beats the heart of a man who truly cares about the well-being of others. A man who won’t stand idly by and remain a spectator to the coming atrocities. Perhaps I misjudged you?”
“I’m listening.”
“Lady Setsuko is power mad.”
“That’s the gist I got.”
“She will settle for nothing less than the subjugation of the entirety of Haven. Setsuko plans to eliminate the smaller gangs first, fortify her numbers with the survivors, then go after the Haitians.”
“That’s pretty much what she told me in a nutshell.”
“And after the Haitians have been dealt with, she will set her sights on Frost.”
“Can she do that? Succeed in taking you down?”
“As her numbers stand now? No. But if she can rally just a fraction of the others, we will fall.”
“And ship security will just let this happen?”
“We are left to our own devices down here. Besides, Todd is in her back pocket.”
“Really?”
“How do you think she was able to smuggle tons of unprocessed heroin on board the ship before this crisis even began? Corrupt officials and paid-off or threatened dock workers only get you so far. She needed a man on board, and that’s where Todd comes in.”
“Hmm, had me fooled. He’s an asshole for sure, but I was convinced he was a strait-laced overachiever.”
“That’s what he would have you believe. Far from it in truth. Pay attention to those under his command and how he assigns new hires. Don’t you think it’s odd that the two police officers that arrived with you found themselves working in janitorial?”
“We don’t talk, but I had heard as much. I just chalked it up to the man being cautious over new faces. Jeremiah and Aiko got their dream jobs in the infirmary, and Miller’s with Cortez.”
“Aiko forced herself into the infirmary over Casandra’s pregnancy. And her lie regarding her marital status insured Jeremiah’s inclusion. In an instant, Aiko and Jeremiah were intertwined and invaluable. Thus, they became too high profile to touch. And Cortez already had his eyes on you and your colleague, Miller. Cortez and Todd are at odds. They don’t trust each other, and for good reason. The four of you are out of Todd’s control. The rest, though, he can do with as he pleases.”
“Interesting.”
“Setsuko is no fool. She knows that Haven’s resources are finite, no matter how many parties are thrown. When the walls come down, she wants to be the one left standing atop the rubble.”
“Maybe I should talk to Cortez, see if he still wants me on the team.”
“That ship has sailed, I’m afraid. Once Cortez enlisted Todd to remove you from the upper decks, he was finished with you. For better or worse, you are one of us now.” Sona crossed the room. She fixed herself and her guest drinks that she poured into immaculate crystal glassware. “The dichotomy you’ve no doubt witnessed with the rich and the working class above doesn’t affect us. Down here, we live as true equals.”
“Until you get to Setsuko’s deck. From what little I saw, those people down there walk on eggshells.”
“Precisely. She calls her domain Seiiki, but it is no refuge, not unless you’re counted among her numbers, and that is what bothers me the most. We are trying to achieve something here: a new world where everyone is on equal footing. Lady Setsuko would throw all of that away in a pointless grab for power. She wants things to go back to the way they used to be—only far, far worse.”
“Let’s say she can pull this off, hypothetically. With her in charge of the whole thing, where does that leave the captain?”
“She only needs him and his crew to operate this vessel. Once Kayembe’s private security is disposed of and Setsuko has joined forces with Todd’s men, she would leave the captain and everyone else above just as subservient as the poor wretches you saw below.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but how does a dominatrix in charge of a sex club gain such a foothold down here? Can I ask what you did before all this?”
“You can ask.”
&nbs
p; “That was one question too many. I apologize.”
“I’m only joking. You no doubt met Naomi when you were released from de-cons.”
“Real ball-buster? Yeah, I met her—briefly.”
“I taught her everything she knows. Before the undead crisis swept the globe, I was the attaché to Haven’s more well-off guests. If they had a request, I was the one who fulfilled it. People knew that I could get things done, so many of the ship’s residents who didn’t disembark at St. Lucia came to me for advice. Networking was my trade, and I used those skills to put together what you see here when I saw the direction Underworld was heading.”
“You really do care about these people, don’t you?”
“They are my family, and Underworld is my home. I will prevent the Lady Setsukos and the Todds of the world from twisting it into their own perverse vision. Whatever it takes.”
“And that’s where I come in. I’m part of whatever it takes?”
“I don’t offer positions on my staff on the first day,” said Sona while motioning to ask if Radzinski wanted a refill on his drink. He nodded yes while she continued. “I like to see the measure of a man first. This was your interview. The next step is entirely up to you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Wanderer
Haven loomed on the horizon. The vessel was shadowed under an ominous sky as Miller, Cortez, and the excursion team advanced through Shipwreck Cove, North Carolina. It was mid-afternoon on the second day of the excursion. Thunder roared in the distance; a fast-approaching weather system threatened to cut short this expedition. The team marched two by two through dilapidated city streets.
Shipwreck Cove was no different than every other beach town Cortez’s team had scoured. Sands had blown onto the streets, leaving them barely recognizable in places. Trash and debris were strewn about. The telltale signs of past chaos remained—destroyed vehicles and buildings and bodies by the dozens littered every block. Structures that were too damaged were passed by; the risk wasn’t worth the reward. But buildings weren’t the only places hiding precious scavenge. An abandoned car on occasion could yield a first aid kit or blankets and road flares, but often the smaller vehicles were empty.
Most corpses scattered throughout the city—scores of them—bore the signs of having been feasted upon by the dead. Others were so ravaged by their attackers that not enough connecting tissue remained for them to function in their now reanimated state. These lame carriers—and they were many—were resigned to moaning and grasping at passersby. The pathetic dead were all but ignored, though their howls often attracted other more mobile creatures. Cortez would dispatch two team members at a time to run ahead and put a few of them down, then rotate the pair back in line for a fresh set of arms. This course continued until Haven was merely a dot on the horizon.
Bull and Simon were on point, another position that was rotated out every thirty minutes to keep the team sharp.
“We missed you at the party the other night. You too good for us now?” Bull teased.
“Nah, man, that last hangover gave me some perspective.”
“Soft.”
“It’s not even like that, bro. When I was puking in the bushes on our last run, one of those things almost grabbed me. I didn’t say anything, but it was hiding in the shrubs, tangled in vines. I told myself right there that enough was enough: no more hangovers while on mission. I just needed a break, that’s all. No big deal.”
“Like I said, soft.”
The excursion team strode past a small ransacked cottage; its front yard was framed with a broken-down waist-high white picket fence. Just inside a smashed gate, small mounds of dirt were trampled down; a flower garden had been crushed under heel. Ahole walked over to scoop up a handful of dirt. He jiggled it around his hand before tossing it aside. Chunks of earth broke up into smaller pieces and tumbled down the road. Miller watched the soil disperse, and it brought back memories of his parents gardening when he was a child. They always wanted his help with it, and as a kid, he just thought they didn’t want him to play with his friends. In his young mind, he went to school all week, and then, on the weekends when he was finally free to roam with his friends, his parents always wanted to ruin his plans with yard work and chores.
Ahole snapped his fingers only inches from Miller’s ear. “Earth to Miller. You still with us, mate? Like I was saying, early on we carted rich soil aboard Haven by the boatload. Farming implements, books on agriculture, and chickens. Fucking chickens, man. You ever try to catch a wild one? Forget it. But we needed them, lots of them. Getting our farm up and running, even as small as it was, took weeks.”
“Impressive.”
“Pfft, shit.” Ahole nearly choked. “Things look good now, but early on, we had some wise fuckers insisting on raising goats.” Ahole merely shook his head at the memory. “We tried, believe me. Hell, I helped catch a few of those bastards myself, and yeah, they bite and kick. Fuckers. And they never shut up. Every time we tried to round some up, it was the same thing. We chase the stupid goats around—they make a commotion, the dead swarm us, the goats get away. Rinse and repeat.”
“I assume you eventually brought some back to the ship?”
“Oh, we did. Half a dozen? Eight, maybe? Not sure, but what I do know is the fuckers never stop eating—and eating and eating. It never stops. Those little bastards were eating us out of house and home. It wasn’t feasible to try to raise goats and pigs. So long story short, we ate good for a few days. As you’ve no doubt seen—or haven’t seen—no more goats. But the little buggers did leave a legacy, of a sort. Sweet Lips still has pounds of goat meat in the freezer he serves from time to time. He only brings it out for special occasions, but he’s making it last as long as he can. It broke his heart to see them go, but it was them or the pigs. For what it’s worth, if Haven ever settles down somewhere, the first thing I’m going to do is start another goat farm for that man. It’s the least I can do. He’s more than earned it.”
They continued their trek deeper into the ruined city. Miller was lost in thought over his own past but remained ever vigilant while Ahole continued reminiscing over fresh meat.
Ulrich pulled up the rear, ax in hand. His weapon was heavy, and it would have been more practical to carry it on his back, but practicality wasn’t exactly Ulrich’s strong suit. He was quiet. Detached, even. He never understood the need for idle chitchat. In his days as a miner in Scandinavia, the incessant rambling from his coworkers was lost on him. If they would only shut up, they could work harder and get the job done faster—a character flaw he also associated with his new friends. Petrova marched at his side; the silence was maddening for her. Fifty feet in front of them, Ahole marched beside Genevieve. He rotated back when Miller took point with Cortez. Petrova jogged up to the Aussie and yanked on the back of his hair.
“The fuck?” Ahole swatted the back of his neck like he was shooing away a bothersome fly.
“Switch places with me. I want to talk to Genevieve.”
“Alright. You can try asking next time.” Ahole slowed his pace until Ulrich caught up. “Fucking Russians, eh, mate?”
Ulrich ignored him.
“Ah, yeah,” Ahole sighed. “This’ll be fun.”
Petrova peered back at Ahole and winked. He flicked her off. She turned to Genevieve and asked, “So what’s the plan for today?”
“The usual. Foodstuffs and medicine. Tony wants books. He says our library is lacking. Dull, I think he put it. Why? Do you have something in mind?”
“I do. I want a shopping cart full of vodka.”
“Way to smash those stereotypes, Petrova. You know the rules. Essentials first, then leisure—if we have time.”
“And books are essential?”
“Got to keep a sharp mind, right?”
“Of course. But we work hard, so I like to play hard. I deserve it. We all do. Besides, we’re going to be here for another day. Time is all we have.”
“Okay, okay, shopping cart full of vodka.
It’s on the list.” Genevieve tapped the side of her head to show she had committed Petrova’s request to memory. “We’ll be lucky to find one bottle anyway, much less a cart full.”
Deeper into town, an abandoned hospital loomed above on their right, opposite the ocean and stretching into the gray sky. As they passed, most of the team didn’t even give the place a second glance. Inside, the dead were pressed up against the windows and jammed in so tight they could barely move. The group was noticed. Their presence sent a wave of aggression through the throngs of walking corpses. Clattering jaws and frantic neck lunges were about all they could muster in their cramped confines. They were packed in so tightly they couldn’t produce enough force to break the hurricane-resistant windows. Miller eyed the place. The state of the building recalled his own experience with hospitals.
“It’s not worth the trouble,” Cortez said. “Hospitals are deathtraps.”
“Agreed,” Miller responded. “Back in Philadelphia, when we were first getting a grasp of the situation, hospitals were filled far beyond capacity with wounded and dying. Larger facilities had patients numbering in the tens of thousands. They set tents up in the parking lots while parking garages doubled as overflow waiting areas. By the time we understood what we had on our hands, it was too late. Within just a few days, every hospital in the city was a breeding ground for those things. All medical facilities in the greater metropolitan area were completely lost.”
“I imagine similar happened everywhere.”
“Probably. We chained them shut as a temporary stopgap and ignored the people inside begging for help. Triage. Let hundreds die to save thousands.”
“Tough call.”
“We had every intention of eventually retaking the hospital. Unfortunately, we were still left with thousands of overflow patients outside, and since the most critical injuries were in the hospital itself, securing the perimeter wasn’t too bad. Yeah, that entire mess never sat well with me, but things were chaos then. We didn’t know what was going on. We were just trying to stay ahead of it.” Miller was visibly angry. “And failing miserably.”
The Roaming (Book 3): Haven's Promise Page 16
